


Se7en

by imherecauseimnotallthere98



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blood, Brutal Murder, Crying Dean, Drabble, Emotional Hurt, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gore, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Loss, M/M, Mutilation, Se7en (Movie), Shapeshifters - Freeform, Shapeshifting, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-11
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 01:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2603450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imherecauseimnotallthere98/pseuds/imherecauseimnotallthere98
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have been tracking a dangerous shape-shifter for weeks now. It's already taken out six people in ways no human being should ever have to die, and now it's threatening to kill another unless Dean and Sam co-operate. It still has captives hidden somewhere, but he has promised to only tell the Winchesters where they are if they listen to him and do exactly as he says. He instructs the hunters to take him to, seemingly, the middle of nowhere. Once there, everything only does downhill for everyone...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much stolen word for word from the movie "Se7en" with Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt. I own nothing but the emotions and hate mail this story may cause

The unassuming, beige van stirred up dust as it sped down the gravel road. It was too far away yet to see a driver, but the van was going so fast the Winchesters could only assume whoever was controlling the vehicle was in a rush. It didn't look to be slowing down, and being so far from town, the brothers couldn't help but worry that the monster who'd led them here was planning an ambush.  
Dean kept his gun, loaded with silver bullets, aimed at the kneeling shifter's head, as he shot Sam a questioning look. Sam looked to the shifter, who only watched the van with detached interest, occasionally glancing at Dean before looking away again.

"You stay here with him," Sam said. "I'll go check it out."

The younger Winchester took off at a sprint towards their car. The Impala was parked a good hundred yards away at least, sitting on the same road the van was barrelling down. Sam's long legs carried him quickly over the dusty, uneven desert ground. As soon as he reached the sleek black car, he jumped in and sped towards the van, the tires slipping momentarily on the loose gravel.  
Once he was close enough, he hammered on the brakes and cranked the wheel to the side, effectively sliding the car sideways and blocking the road. He opened his door and got out, aiming his 9 mm at the front window of the van.  
The driver of the van locked up his own brakes, skidding to a halt less that ten yards from the hunter.

"Get out of the van!" Sam commanded, pulling back the safety on his weapon the show that he wasn't joking. The driver did as he was instructed, getting out and putting his hands up in surrender.

"Whoa! Whoa! Dude, I don't want any trouble. Please, take whatever you want, don't hurt me."

Sam furrowed his brow at the short, scrawny man. He looked to be in his early twenties, with curly brown hair, and a very terrified expression. That's when Sam saw the Express Shipping logo on his jacket and hat. The hunter lowered his gun.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice far less booming than before.

"Mike. Look, I'm just the delivery guy. Some guy paid me to bring a package out here, at exactly this time."

"You've got a package?" Sam asked, cautious again.

Mike nodded quickly. He still had his hands up, despite the fact that Sam had lowered his gun, and he pointed to the back of the van with his thumb. Sam motioned for the driver to get whatever he'd been sent to deliver.  
Mike came back seconds later with a small box that was about a foot long, a foot deep, and just less that a foot wide. A carefully placed stickers on the front said "Fragile". Mike set it on the ground and back away, looking to the Winchester for any new orders.

"Get out of here." Sam told him. It was clear this man knew nothing, he was just a middle man in a really shitty deal.

Mike didn't hesitate to take the chance to leave. He jumped back in his van, slammed it into reverse so hard Sam could hear the transmission groan in protest, and did the fasted three point turn the hunter had ever seen. Soon the beige van was speeding back the way it had come.

Sam squatted down by the box, looking it over without picking it up. It was just a plain brown, cardboard box, the top taped shut with standard packing tape.  
The hunter reached into his back pocket and pulled out his silver switch blade, flicking it open with practised ease.  
Carefully, so as not to damage whatever was in the box, he cut the tape, then put his knife away. Slowly, he opened the first two flaps, half expecting something to jump out at him.  
Now there were only two flaps blocking his view of what the delivery man had been paid so high to bring out. The hunter frowned at the dark stains that he could now see on the flaps of the package.

"Blood." he whispered to himself.

Now morbid curiosity took over. The shifter had whatever was in this box sent out here to where he'd directed the brothers to take him, and the driver had been paid to make sure it was out here at exactly seven o'clock. What the hell could be in it?  
Sam steeled his nerves. Even after growing up around death and decay, sometimes something seriously gross could still trigger his gag reflex. Slowly, the Winchester opened the box the rest of the way. What he saw inside made him scream and jump back against the Impala. His shoulder hit the bumper hard, but he was numb to any pain at this point, his mind reeling.

 

Dean watched his brother's reaction to the box, and now he was worried. Had he not needed to stay and guard the shifter, he would have already been halfway across the field. Whatever had just happened between his brother and the guy in the van, it had been much too far away for the hunter to see or hear anything.

“You've made quite a life for yourself, Dean. Despite everything.” the monster droned. The hunter barely hmm'd in acknowledgement. Just enough so that the damned thing wouldn't repeat it's self, as it seemed so found of doing.

“You should be proud.”

“Why don't you shut the hell up, you piece of shit?” Dean snapped back, his eyes still straining to watch Sam. He was pissed at practically working with a monster, and not even one of the good ones. The only reason he didn't put a bullet in the thing's head right now, was that they still needed him to tell them where the other hostages were being kept. Dean still didn't know why the thing was co-operating even this much. He hadn't asked for anything in return for the safe delivery of the people he was holding somewhere. Not even his own safety. Just that the brothers do exactly as he say for one final thing. Drive him all the way out to what was, as far as Dean was concerned, butt fuck nowhere. They were in the middle of a fucking desert for fuck sakes. What the hell was out here? Other than the van and a box, apparently.

“Dean!” Sam called, already running back to his brother and the shifter.

“Here he comes.” the shifter remarked dryly.

“Put the gun down!” Sam yelled.

“What?” Dean called back, partly because he wasn't sure what his brother had just said, and partly because if Sam had just told him to put his gun down when they were dealing with a serial killer shape-shifter, then Dean was gonna tell his little brother to take a big drink of water and go lay down for a bit.

“I wish I could have lived like you. It seems so exciting.” the shifter said flatly.

“Shut up.” Dean told the monster, still watching his moose of a brother doing his damnedest to sprint over the rocky ground.

“Drop the gun!” Sam instructed again, his tone starting to worry Dean.

“The hell are you talking about?” Dean called back.

"Do you hear me, Dean?" the shifter asked numbly. He always seemed to speak in that factual, monotone kind of way. He had an eerie calm about him that made Dean think this guy should have been in a mental institution. The hunter tried to shake it off, only sparing a glance at the monster, more interested in what was going on at Sam's end.

"I'm trying to tell you how much I admire you. And your pretty boyfriend." the thing continued. 

That got his attention real fast. He spun on the shifter, facing him now.

“What?”

“Castiel.” the shifter added, as if proving how much he knew about Dean and his life outside of hunting. He almost said it with pride.

“What did you fuckin' say?” Dean demanded, refusing to believe that Cas had been involved in this any further than research. Even though most demons and angels knew about Dean and Cas, the hunters tried to keep it a secret from the monster world. It would be even easier for either of them to be used against each other if more people knew. If they kept it a secret, they could at least try and deny everything. Behind him, he could still hear Sam yelling at him to throw his gun down.

"I visited your motel room this morning. After you left. I was disguised as you. I tried to play boyfriends. I tried to taste the life of a hunter.”

Dean was practically transfixed at that point. He barely registered Sam screaming his name as he ran towards him, right now the pit in his stomach had all his focus on the shifter. It had gone to see Cas. More so than that, it had tried to touch Cas. His Castiel. But the angel hadn't called him or Sam to tell them about the shifter's visit...

"It didn't work out. So, I took a souvenir."

"Dean!" Sam screamed. He was almost there, but Dean was ignoring him anyways. The shifter looked up at Dean, and for the first time, he smiled a little.

"His pretty little head."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the first chapter, starting immediately where the last chapter left off. In this chapter, you will get to see Dean's reaction to what the shifter did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, by popular demand, at least, popular by my standards, I have continued this fic! Also, I did go back and change quite a bit int he first chapter, so it might be worth it to go back and re-read it. The story doesn't change much, so this chapter should still make sense if you don't. I wrote this at 12:30 am okay, so no judging for grammar mistakes, for some reason my stories turn out good when I'm really tired, but my grammar is probably shit. I'll go take a look at it later. Any who, please enjoy what my sick and twisted little mind concocted this time!

Sam reached Dean moments later, huffing and out of breath.

“Dean, give me your gun.”

Dean ignored him.

“What's going on over there?” he asked, motioning to where the van had just been, and where the box still lay. He didn't sound anything more than curious and maybe a tad concerned at that point. Sam hoped he could get the gun away from his brother before that changed.

“Put the gun down.” he said calmly, hoping that he didn't sound as shaken as he felt. He couldn't afford to let his emotions show right now, even if Dean could read him like a book most of the time anyways.

“What was in the box? What was in the box?”

Dean's tone bordered on pleading and desperate. Sam could see that the denial was slowly slipping from his brother's mind, and it wouldn't be long before he did something drastic. Sam knew he had to get the gun away from him soon. The hostages couldn't afford rash decisions right now.

“Put the gun down, Dean.” he said again, trying to keep his voice calm.

“What's in the box?!” Dean demanded. He was slowly working his was into hysteria.

“Not until you put the gun down.”

“What's in the fucking box?!”

“He just told you.” the shifter joined in, his eerily calm tone doing nothing to help Dean's distress.

“You're lying! You fucking liar! Shut up!” the oldest Winchester screamed at the shifter.

“It's what he wants.” Sam tried to reason with his brother. Make him see why he needed to either put the gun down and let his brother, who could still rationalize, take control, or leave the situation entirely. “He wa- he wants you to shoot him, Dean.”

“No! No!”

The veil of disbelief and denial was slowly being pulled back.

“Tell me- you tell me that's not true. That's not true.” Dean begged, his mind still trying to cling to the faint hope that the shifter was lying, even though he had no reason to. And that whatever was in the box most certainly wasn't the head of the angel who had changed everything in his life for the better.

“Kill me, Dean.” the shifter taunted.

“No!” Dean wailed at his brother. “He's alright. You tell me!”

Sam wanted more than anything to be able to tell his brother that the monster was lying. That Cas was back at the motel, safe and sound and watching bad daytime T.V, eating chips that Dean had taught him how to steal from vending machines. He wanted to tell Dean that they would go back tonight and find everything just as they'd left it this morning, and that tomorrow all three of them would pile into the Impala and leave town, and the shifter would just become another bad memory. Sam wished with everything he had left in him that he could tell his brother all that, and he felt his heart break at the desperation in his brother's voice as he begged for reassurance that couldn't be given.

“Take vengeance.” the shifter jabbed.

“Tell me he's alright!” Dean shouted at his brother, pleading in his eyes.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. His silence was almost as bad as outright lying to his brother. Dean would find out pretty quick anyways. In some ways, Sam was sure his brother already knew, he just couldn't bear to admit it. He needed someone he trusted to tell him.

“You knew he was at risk the second he became important to us. To you.”

“Nooo!” Dean bellowed. Tears that he had been holding back in faint hope now wet his cheeks as he doubled over, as if in real, physical pain. After losing Jess and Amelia, Sam knew that he was.

“He begged for his life, Dean.” the shifter stated in a matter of fact tone.

“Shut up.” Sam told the shifter. The last thing they needed was Dean remembering the monster was there.

“Give me the gun, Dean.” Sam said as calmly and gently as he could. He watched as Dean would aim the .45 at the shifter, only to double over as a fresh sob hit him like a bowling ball to the chest. Despite everything, Sam could see the intent when he brother looked at the shifter.

“Dean, if you shoot him, he wins. And we'll never find the others.”

Grief like nothing he had ever wanted to feel didn't just wash over Dean, it consumed him completely. His entire body ached as he wailed and howled his pain. Each sob hit him like he'd been smacked in the chest with a two by four, his throat already raw from the force of his convulsive heaves each time he breathed in or out.  
Dean had lost his mother and father. He'd lost Bobby and all his friends and even Sam a couple times, but he'd never felt this. This was something new and powerful and crippling in a unique way. It was grief and loss and hopelessness all wrapped up in memories of past good times that would never come to pass again. All Dean had left of the love of his life were memories.  
It hit him with the force of a high speed accident. He would never again be able to hold Cas, to make love with him, to joke around with him. He would never again hear that voice, see that smile, smell that unique, clean musk that the angel left on his clothes and their sheets. The reality that he would never get to say goodbye to Cas broke him even more, as he slowly realized that this morning had been his last anything with Cas. The last time he would ever wake up wrapped up in the angel's arms, the last cup of coffee Cas would ever steal from him, the last kiss he would ever be able to claim from those lips. All of that was over, gone. Just like that. Dean screamed.

“Oh God!”

And then he thought of the motel room. The floor and walls probably stained and tacky with drying blood. That is, if someone hadn't found him yet. And Cas... His head in a box a hundred and fifty yards away, his body in a motel, just lying there, like some worthless, lowlife monster that Dean and Sam hunted every day. And no matter what, they at least always gave the monsters a burial of sorts. They didn't just leave the body there like- like-

“Oh, God!” Dean wailed again, doubling over, white knuckling the gun in his hand. He didn't care. The logical part of his brain was overloaded right now, and he couldn't see all the reasons not to shoot the shifter past the one reason he should.  
In one shaky but determined motion, Dean stood, aimed his gun and shot. The shifter dropped next to Sam. Dean then proceeded to empty his clip into the thing's body, even though his first bullet had been a clean head shot. Sam made no motion to stop him, the damage was already done. The only hope they'd had of finding the hostages, had just had a clip of silver bullets emptied into his head and chest.  
Once the gun was empty, Dean dropped it and sunk to the ground in a heap. Sam immediately went to him, sinking down next to his brother and wrapping his arms around him. At first Dean tried to push him away and struggle out of his grasp, but Sam only held on tighter. It only took a few more seconds for Dean to give in and fall against his little brother, weeping and screaming and wailing, the sounds punched from his body as if he'd been physically hit.  
Sam had never seen his big brother like this. Dean had never once in his entire life broken down so hard and completely. At least, not as far as Sam knew. In a way, the younger Winchester understood it. He'd lost Jess, but even then he hadn't broken down this badly. That wasn't to say he'd loved her less, he'd been looking for engagement rings in the weeks leading up to the night of the fire, but the way he'd loved her had been different from the way Dean loved Cas. Dean and Cas hadn't had any secrets, and they'd been through some serious, end of the world trust building exercises that hadn't exactly diminished their already strong bond.  
Plus, Dean thought differently than Sam did. Dean had been put through some very traumatizing shit as a kid, and as a result, he hadn't learnt how to deal with emotions well. Dean had always loved and hated fiercely. You either had his absolute trust, protection and devotion, or you were on his radar in a bad way and spent most of your life looking over your shoulder. Dean had loved Cas with that ferocity, that devotion, that commitment, and as a result, losing him had also meant losing a part of himself.  
As much as Sam did not want to admit it, Dean would never be the same ever again. He might be able to make the occasional joke or even crack a smile, and to most people he might even look okay, but Sam would always see it. He would always see that emptiness behind the grin, the sadness hidden behind the jokes. He knew Dean would keep on hunting and travelling, simply because he didn't know what else to do. He would drink to pass out a lot, he would be moody, irritable, down right scary on hunts and closed off any other time. And Sam knew the only thing he could do, was be there for his brother. Leave him a cup of water and an aspirin in the morning, find him some easy hunts to release stress, and most of all, do his best to never, ever again mention Cas. Once the hunter's funeral was over, Sam knew that his only job was to let Dean cope in his own, unhealthy way, and then help him bury this memory as best he could. As much as it would hurt them both, Sam needed to help Dean forget Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I think that about wraps it up. Thank you so much to everyone who read my fic, I've never gotten such a strong response so quickly to any of my stories. PLEASE comment so I can know if I wrecked you day of if I should try and make it sadder to be more successful in my day wrecking goals.

**Author's Note:**

> First off, I have no idea what is wrong with me or why I thought to do this. I sent it to a friend of mine, and his only response was to call me a "purebred psychopath". Needless to say, I live for these reactions, so I was a very happy camper. Please let me know what you guys think. I'm thinking I might come back and add on to it later, give more back story and what happens next, if anyone is interested. So, if you want to see how Dean deals with this, what happens next, or learn how this all got started, please tell me so by clicking the "Comment" button and spilling your feels into the designated box. :)


End file.
